


god help us outcasts

by Spylace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spylace/pseuds/Spylace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Osiris' judgement--Castiel is the third witness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	god help us outcasts

“You can come out now”  
   
Never had he been so glad to hear the flutter of wings. Dean puts on a smile, a sick twist of lips on the yay side of wrong as he turns around. “Hey Cas, been a while.”  
   
“Dean” Castiel returns solemnly, his hair dripping and fists clenched around his still damp trench.  He frowns hard, his head bowed and brow creased as he squints at the thick band of salt between them, unsure what it’s meant to be because Castiel is— _was_ —the angel of the lord and grace poured beneath human skin; a bit of salt can’t stop him, Dean knows that even as the line blurs from the water flooding his feet. Castiel hesitates and steps back. He says plainly, “I do not understand.”  
   
“Yeah well, it’ll come to you.” Dean answers indulgent, taking a swig from his bottle. He feels buzzed, almost happy even to see Cas. Cas who flickers like a goddamned ghost, like static caught on screen, straightening up all ruffled and affront as though he found Dean yet again tempting fate by taunting Michael and the rest of the heavenly host. Feathers fall as he bristles, wings seizing in distress. He is pale and wan, like someone took a knife to him and drained all the colors from his veins.  
  
Arguably, he is the most beautiful thing Dean has ever seen.  
   
“I will not do this.”  
   
Dean shrugs.  
   
“Dean, there is still time.”  
   
“Well maybe I don’t want to.”  
   
Castiel looks fragile around the edges; silver-lit eyes rolling as he looks around the decrepit motel room and the frost forming on the glass. Dean doesn’t know how successful Sam will be, if whatever hold Osiris has on Cas will break once he is gone. The sprinklers go off in a spray of ink and he barely flinches even though it looks so much like when the Leviathans took Cas as their host, drew a maze across his neck and warped him until he was barely recognizable, wild-eyed with ink blooming across grazed skin.  
   
But these aren’t Leviathans; it’s just water that tastes like paint thinner when he opens his mouth like an idiot. The salt lines melt, smear and disappear completely. Castiel flickers and appears before him, stricken as he holds a possessive hand against the claim on his arm.  
   
“ _Dean_ ”  
   
There is a gun on the dresser that he might just reach if he jumps for it and Castiel eyes it like a revelation, nails digging in hard enough to _hurt_.  
  
"I forgive you."  
   
Dean breathes out and it is steam.  
  
The bottle lands with a dull thud.  
   
Dean can barely see him now— _he can barely see anything_. He is drowning from his lungs up and he can’t bring himself to care, only that there is something he has to say, something he’s got to tell Castiel out loud.  
   
“And I’m glad it was you.”  
   
They kiss. Castiel is cold as expected of a ghost but not of an angel who was heat, light, faith and redemption before all went to hell. He grips him tight and holds him close, rivulets of ink running down their faces as he feels the heavy feathers settle over his spine, darker still for the spill of blackness that seeps through.  
   
Hungrily, Castiel sucks all the air out from his lungs and Dean, lets him.


End file.
